


all of your pieces, I want them all

by im_a_banana



Series: space-bois fam [7]
Category: Among Us (Video Game)
Genre: Alien Impostor(s) (Among Us), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Crewmate Black (Among Us), Impostor Red (Among Us), M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, black has seen some terrible shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:55:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29847387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_a_banana/pseuds/im_a_banana
Summary: Red recognized the distinctive scent of nervousness and hesitation in the air, as if Black had something on his mind that he was too reluctant to tell. Halfway between a sigh and a bored yawn, the human mumbled nonchalantly at last, “Ey, Red.”“Mhm?” the Impostor in disguise prompted encouragingly, sipping his warm morning coffee as he filled out the last document of the pile—“Can I fuck you tonight?”—before projectile-spitting the hot, burning beverage the way it got in.
Relationships: Black/Red (Among Us), Crewmate/Impostor (Among Us)
Series: space-bois fam [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2047988
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	all of your pieces, I want them all

The beeping sound of a human heart was almost hypnotic.

Sat down in the empty Office to fill out paperwork, Red was listening to the thumping heartbeat of his crew members’ young hearts, reveling in their regularity and evenness.

Everyone was alive. They felt safe and happy in Polus, and Red would’ve done everything in his power to keep it that way.

That place was unknown and new, yet to be fully explored and comprehended, honestly making the Impostor a little uncomfortable; new tasks, a new map, new responsibilities. It was not like Red was hostile to change, quite the opposite; adaptability was one of the most valuable features of his own species in fact, but the Captain knew he would miss his repetitive routine on The Skeld. He was just starting to get used to it.

_“At least not everything has changed,”_ Red smiled gratefully as Black, accompanied by his trotting dog, confidently strode into the room and placed his usual cup of morning coffee in his hands— two sugar cubes and a splash of milk, just the way he liked it— relieved that he could always find comfort in the dark-haired human’s presence and familiar face, which was the only thing keeping him sane and preventing his senses from overloading. “Thank you, Black.”

“You’re welcome,” Black gently replied, sitting down on the wooden chair by Red’s side and observing the beeping screen with very little interest. Underneath the pungent smell of his sweat— which was understandable, since the human had clearly just finished training— there was also something else; an Impostor’s nose didn’t lie.

There was a scent of nervousness and hesitation, as if Black had something on his mind he was too reluctant to tell.

Finally, halfway between a sigh and a faked bored yawn, the human mumbled nonchalantly, “Ey, Red.”

“Mhm?” the Captain prompted encouragingly, contentedly sipping his warm coffee as he filled out the last document of the pile—

“Can I fuck you tonight?”

—before projectile-spitting the hot, burning beverage the way it got in.

“I—I beg your pardon?” Red demanded between harsh coughs and wheezes, trying desperately to clear his airways from the remaining coffee. Despite his efforts to get it together, it was obvious that his flushed cheeks— now as bright red as his distinctive spacesuit— weren’t due to the temporary lack of oxygen or the burning in his lungs.

“Oh, don’t play the deaf dumbass card, mister. You obviously heard me loud and clear, judging by the whole water-gun-show you’ve just put on,” Black claimed, raising an intrigued eyebrow at his blushing superior. “Is it such an absurd question for me to ask, Red? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind what we usually do _at all_ but, not to brag or anything, I can be a very capable top~” the human cooed, snickering as the Captain’s cheeks got even redder at his last statement. “And I’d like to prove it to you, that’s all. It’s just a suggestion, of course. If you’re not comfortable about it, and I kinda guess you’re not, it’s—”

“Black, hold up! Let a man process! You just… caught me off guard here,” the Impostor in disguise raised his hands to stop his colleague’s blabbering, clearing his throat one more time before reopening his mouth, much calmer. “It was just so sudden… but this reaction of mine doesn’t mean that I’m not willing to try. Don’t think so little of me, Black.”

It was Black’s turn to be slightly taken aback now, as he simply stared at his superior as if he’d suddenly grown a tail— which Red could technically do, but that wasn’t the point at the moment. “Wait, you are?"

“Of course. I’ve always assumed you were fine with what we usually do—” Red begun.

“And _I am_ , Red. Truly.”

“— but it was selfish and stupid of me not to think about asking _you_ about your own desires, Black. I didn’t mean to take you for granted, and I frankly don’t care about _roles_ in our relationship. Don’t be so reluctant to ask, just be a little less— brusque, perhaps?”

“Woah, pump the brakes! You seriously don’t mind about that?” the coal-colored astronaut repeated more slowly, as if he couldn’t believe his own ears, or as if he thought Red hadn’t heard him correctly the first time, after all. His neck tilted slightly to the left, the human was displaying his incredulity in a way that was downright amusing. “You’re like, the first guy I’ve ever met who, apparently, doesn’t give a shit about this kind of stuff.”

Now that they were on the same page, Red’s expression softened in compassion and understanding; human beings were fascinating, yes, but they could also be so illogical sometimes! The purpose of intercourse was reproducing, or at the very least taking and sharing pleasure with a partner, so why would such a mere detail matter?

Plus, Red wanted to experience every single thing in his new, human form. Feel every sensation and emotion, savor the sheer complexity and beauty of it, adapt and conform to a lifestyle he’d grown to genuinely enjoy. Was that desire so egotistical of him? Maybe, but the Captain wasn’t gonna apologize for his own curiosity.

The Impostor in disguise grinned, partially to himself. “Why, haven’t you met a bunch of very open-minded people in your life.”

“I know, right? So lame. The definition of ‘fragile masculinity’, if I say so myself,” Black strongly agreed, his slouched posture suggesting that he was finally at ease and reassured by Red’s unexpected and unconditional support. “So… that means we’re doing it?”

The Captain rolled his crimson eyes at his colleague’s careful double-check. _Silly humans._ “Whenever you want, I told you. Even tonight, if you’d like. Just not now, obviously,” Red pointed the ruined, coffee-stained documents with a stiff finger. The desk was such a disaster, too… “because you need a shower, for one thing. And because _someone_ decided to sabotage my job, and I have to redo all my paperwork and clean this mess up, for another.”

Black’s smirk was somewhere between guilty and insolent. “Who, me? I swear to the stars, I would never.”

* * *

In the dim light of the Captain’s private room, Red’s pointed eyes could be glowing crimson with anger, for all he knew.

“For the last time Black, and believe me, I mean it: I am not made of glass, and I will not break. Don’t flatter yourself too much,” Red’s usually collected tone was starting to reveal its mounting annoyance, mostly caused by his dark-haired colleague’s reluctance, and partially by his own, aroused body’s unresolved frustration. “and I swear to the stars, if you’re planning to keep it up with _just_ those fingers of yours, I’m gonna bite your whole hand off.”

And that was not a figure of speech.

Not that the Captain could tell Black about it, of course, but he was an Impostor, for Pluto’s sake! Literally one of the most dangerous, aggressive and resilient creatures in the whole Universe, and he absolutely _would not_ be treated like some sort of whimpering suckling.

However, Red’s legitimate complaints and threats were merely met by an half-entertained, half-annoyed eye-roll. “Yeah, yeah. I know you’re a strong, independent man and shit like that, Red. But this is different, I’d already done this before; I knew what to expect and what to do, and how to make it easier for both of us,” Black explained kindly, his voice carrying none of his usual sarcasm; quite the contrary, the crewmate’s tone was patient and caring, like it always was when the two of them were together. “I positively _do not_ want to hurt you, Red. If we’re doing this, you must be 100% sure, ‘cause I need you to be extra relaxed. A rag doll, in fact.”

The Impostor in disguise blinked thoughtfully, forcing himself to bite back a sharp retort in order to reflect on Black’s advice. Well, as much as someone with three, well-lubed fingers buried inside their own body could reflect, that is.

Did he want to do it?

Well, obviously. Blame Red’s innate curiosity, or blame his eagerness to fully explore the sensations of the human body he’d imbedded in— plus, he may or may not have thought about trying _that_ , a couple of times— he really, honestly wanted to share this experience with that charming, handsome black-haired man.

Did he feel, in any way, forced or uncomfortable?

No, not at all. Black cared about his wellbeing, and he never failed to prove so.

So, when Red lifted his head to stare right into the young trainer’s dark, shadowy eyes, he spoke resolutely and firmly, “I’m sure. I want to do this with you, Black. I don’t have any experience, that’s true, but I believe I’ve got a pretty good teacher,” the redhead elegantly leaned forward until the tip of their noses brushed, so that his breath could tickle the human’s lips like an alluring caress. “The floor’s all yours, Black.”

Not really up to give his superior an eloquent response, Black swiftly removed his fingers from his partner’s core, producing a wet, squelching sound. “Ohh. You’re far too confident for your own good, Captain. Someone’s gotta fix that,” the young trainer remarked matter-of-factly, his rumbling voice as thick and smooth as honey as he instructed, “Down on your knees, Red. It’ll be easier, trust me.”

In a hurried, impatient second, the two men found themselves comfortably positioned and ready to go, with Red’s hips invitingly raised upwards and Black’s strong shape tightly pressed against the Impostor’s behind.

“Alright, before we do this, I’m gonna ask you one more time; are you absolutely, positively sure? We can stop anytime you want, just say the word.”

The redhead’s upper body twisted around like a furious snake, intentioned to give Black a piece of his fucking mind. “Black, if you don’t shut up and do something right this instant, I swear to the—!” the Impostor in disguise never got to finish his little outburst; his throat tightened and tensed along with his every other muscle, the moment Black finally pushed through that first, unwilling ring of tissue and _pressed_.

“Shh, it’s ok, I got you. You’re doing _so good_ , Red… Deep breaths,” Black immediately bent forward to gently nip at the Captain’s exposed jaw, resting his muscular chest against the Impostor’s trembling back in order to purr sweet nothings into his ear, steadily coaxing his partner’s twitching body to accept the sudden intrusion. “You have no fucking idea how absolutely _amazing_ you feel around me, you’re so warm and so tight. That’s it Red, relax, let me in~”

How in the Universe Black was managing to keep his cool and control his urges in a moment like that, Red just couldn’t fathom. Everything was hot, it burnt, it was almost suffocating, and every single nerve in the Impostor’s slim form was on fire. Stars, he couldn’t even think straight, let alone form a coherent phrase; letting out a small incoherent sound, Red realized that he was entirely, undoubtedly at Black’s mercy. _“Is this how Black feels when I’m inside him?”_

Finally, with a gentle and smooth shift of his hips, the black-haired human buried himself completely inside of Red with a satisfied groan, listening to the Captain’s distressed growl and tightening the grip around his waist in response, as the Impostor in disguise instinctively tried to move away from the source of such discomfort and pain.

“No, no, no, don’t stiffen up on me like this,” Black encouraged between barely-contained gasps, showering Red’s sensitive neck with butterfly kisses and taking him into his hand, his wrist moving in a regular, unrelenting pace which purpose was to allow his companion to forget about the ache.

Very tentatively, battling against the growing reluctance with every ounce of his will, the Captain forced his own muscles to mellow out underneath the patient ministration of the much more experienced man. “It’s a bit better now,” he panted at last, licking his dry lips and allowing himself to get used to the new sensation.

It was… _a lot_. Not necessarily in a bad way, but Red’d never felt that full or vulnerable in his entire life, and he’d never thought he would be.

His species, in fact, did not engage in coitus; one would just need to find a safe place to lay some eggs, which would then be fertilized by another individual— ‘external fertilization’, that’s what the humans called it.

Vulnerability meant weakness, and weakness meant being exterminated. It was a tiring game, where you had to watch your own throat every second.

For a long time, at the very beginning of their infiltration, Red’d thought that at the end of his mission, he’d return home and accept Green as his partner— and why not? Green was a fine specimen, powerful and smart, and their progeny would surely carry on their genes for countless generations. Being allowed to reproduce was seen as a honor by Red’s kind, a success, and proving your own strength and wit by decimating a whole crew of humans was the price for such privilege.

How things can change… In just a few months on a spaceship, Red had found in Green the truest of friends, in Black— a human, nonetheless!— the mate he never thought he’d need and, in every last one of those eccentric astronauts, a strange family.

_Friends are relatives you make for yourself_ , Red’d read once (Eustache Deschamps, was it?) and he honestly couldn’t agree more; none of his kind had ever treated him with the same care, tenderness and gentleness as Black did, as if he was something valuable, to hold dear and cherish. It was new, a bit scary at times, but most definitely not unwelcome. Again, adapting to change was Red’s specialty.

Surely, one’s life must mean so much more than just surviving.

Black’s throaty laugh interrupted the Impostor’s thoughts, “Is everything alright down there?” he inquired lightheartedly, though Red could feel the human _trembling_ from the effort of remaining perfectly motionless, his limbs practically begging to be moved and barely restraining their undeniable strength.

What Black lacked in height— and not by much if compared to Red, really, an inch at most— he made up in speed, agility and brute force. Of course, being an alien Impostor, the Captain would have the upper hand in combat… _but would he, though?_

Such a spontaneous doubt sent a pleasing shiver down Red’s arched spine. “Mhm, it is now. But tell me, is everything alright up there?” the Captain rebutted cockily, tilting his head to stare right into those mesmerizing obsidian-eyes, which sparkled with amusement, and anticipation, and challenge.

The Impostor wanted to taste it, to gorge on it: the power, the force, the vigor of that human, because right now, Black looked anything but frail— the human just needed a little push, a small provocation.

And oh, didn't Red’s strategy work just fine.

“Ah, looks like we’ve got a smartass among us. Well Captain, if you can talk shit to me like this,” sharp teeth sunk into the sensitive cartilage of Red’s ear as potent hips suddenly snapped forward, snatching the breath from the redhead. Most definitely _not_ a weakling. “you can definitely take a dick.”

And with that, Black started to move.

There is something thrilling about welcoming someone inside your own body. The sensation of a foreign skin pressing against your own, of a solid weight towering above you, present but not oppressive, and quivering fingers tangling with yours in a passionate and desperate hold… it was enough to tear down and demolish even the most inflexible of self-controls. 

Truth to be told, Red’d never had the firmest of self-disciplines, and his species’ sensory perception got nothing on that of a human; his body felt _everything_ at once, and the Impostor had long since given up on trying to restrain his ragged gasps and groans.

It wasn’t all that different from how they usually coupled— with Black’s back or chest tightly pressed against his own, as Red pressed deeply inside of him and fastened his fangs around chunks of pinkish skin, to keep his still and close (thank the Universe, the human had not yet pointed out such unusual behavior, or the unnatural length and sharpness of his teeth)—and at the same time, it was. The throbbing pressure against sensitive tissue was inside of him, rousing the irrepressible instinct to _push back_ against his partner’s fit form.

What would the other members of his kind say about him, an Impostor who willingly submits to a human? Who lets a supposedly inferior creature use his body as they please, to satisfy such lower and filthy urges? Once again, Red didn’t particularly care.

Black’s pace was confident, but by no means uncaring or inattentive; on the other hand, the young astronaut was constantly modifying his hips’ movements, changing the angle and pressure, as if he was seeking for something…

The sudden wail that Red let out was proof that he’d finally succeeded, and Black couldn’t help but chuckle at his own skill and at the Captain’s astonished expression. “Found it,” he declared hoarsely, just as breathless as his companion, before pushing against that… _something_ again, and again, and again, increasing the strength and rhythm, until Red’s elbows could hardly support their own weight.

What ‘it’ was exactly, the Impostor in disguise had no fucking clue. He wasn’t even able to think straight at the moment, and he could always find out about ‘it’ later, anyway. All he longed for, all he craved for, was his mate hitting that particular spot inside him, one more time, and damn the stars— Black was _accurate._

“F-faster,” Red ordered with the hint of a snarl, his upper lip curled impatiently; if appealing to his higher rank would’ve urged the dark-haired man to speed up, the Captain was ready to flash his badge.

Strong arms wrapped around the Impostor’s slender waist, intentionally putting even more weight on Red’s already trembling shoulders, testing the Captain's resistance. “Your wish is my command, _Captain_ ,” Black complied, more than eager to fulfill his superior’s request, revering the almost-animalistic vocalizations that were escaping though Red’s gritted teeth. Holy shit, was that an actual _growl_?

“You’re _so hot_ , Red. You don’t even know how incredible you look like this, underneath me,” lowering his head slightly, Black traced the long line of the redhead’s pumping jugular with his tongue, enjoying the saltiness of his sweat and the warmth his skin radiated. He was so close it _hurt_ , but he desperately wanted to push Red over that edge, too.

Placing his mouth near the Captain’s ear, the human’s panting turned into a deep and seductive purr, “Com’on Red, I know you need it~ you did so good, there’s no way you don’t want it. So, don’t hold it back. Come— _now_.”

Although Red’d already shared such a blissful experience with Black before, and on many occasions— mammals, wasn’t their biology absolutely fascinating?— each and every single encounter felt like the first; and in a strange way, this time it really was like that. The mounting buildup, the breathtaking pressure, the powerful cohesion of limbs— it all exploded in a blinding, punishing wave of unadulterated pleasure which painted their vision white and forced them both to collapse against the ruined mattress’ sheets.

Worn out, covered in perspiration, but completely sated.

As the couple’s frenzied breathing and pulse gradually returned to their normal pace, Black’s quiet words cut through the comfortable, exhausted silence. “You know I can’t spend the night with you…”

“I know that, Black. And I understand,” recovered as well, although still a little lightheaded, the Captain reached out to touch the human’s damp cheek, feeling the coarseness of the human’s stubble under his fingertips. Sensing his colleague’s remorse, Red tried to cheer him up, “and besides, Neptune will be missing you. I wouldn’t entrust my dog to Pink’s care for too long, knowing how reckless she can be.”

“Stop it, Red. We both know it’s not because of the dog, or because I don’t wish to share a bed with you. I want to stay here, I really do,” Black confessed, his voice close to a sad whisper. “but I’m too scared of injuring you. The nightmares about my first mission, they— what if I attack you in my sleep? Damn the stars, I could break your bones, or even worse! If I hurt you, I’d never forgive myself. I’m not taking the risk, I can’t.”

_“What happened to you, Black? What are you hiding behind your smiles? What did they do to you, to break you down like this?”_ the Captain refrained from asking that question, simply squeezing his subordinate’s scarred shoulder, reassuringly. “I trust you, Black. I know you’d never hurt me on purpose, and it pains me to see you at war with yourself, night after night. I wish I could give you the peace of mind you deserve. But I’ll tell you what,” an idea had suddenly materialized in Red’s brain, and the Impostor couldn’t help but blurt it out. “you can sleep here, if you want. You take my bed, I’ll get the spare mattress and lay it next to you, as close as you’ll allow me, of course. Polus’ rooms are big enough, and there’s plenty of space here for both of us. What do you say, would that be alright?”

The pensive silence that followed the redhead’s question suggested that, at least, Black was considering the compromise. Sighing heavily, the dark-haired human flatly added, “I also scream in my sleep, sometimes. Hope you’re a heavy sleeper.”

Red’s crimson irises lit up with satisfaction and perhaps a small glint of smugness, looking like tiny, scorching suns. “No offense, but it wouldn’t be the first time I heard you scream in bed.”

* * *

_“Black._ ”

Those voices, _their_ voices. Visiting him once again in his dreams, one more night, to call in the debt he owned them.

Pitch-black eyes snapped open at the distant call, and the astronaut immediately knew he was not in the realm of wakefulness anymore; around Black, blurry and smoky outlines were surrounding him like a cage, trapping the man in front of seven human shapes, who stood there in silence like jurors before an indicter.

Their eyes, once colorful, and sparkling and alive, were now glazed, and blank, and hollow in their state of death— however, they were not unfocused; they were staring directly at _him_ , judging and embittered.

_“Black,”_ one of the shapes stepped forward, his throat cut open deeply, to show the vermillion flesh underneath. _“why didn’t you do it? Why didn’t you protect us?”_

_“Why didn’t you save us, Black?”_ another ghastly voice demanded in despair, a woman this time, whose chest and shoulders were studded by terrifying and ferocious stab wounds.

“ _We counted on you, Black. But you let him do this to us,_ ” an older man added, a perfectly circular bullet hole on his forehead leaving no doubt about the cause of his death. _“you let him kill us. We couldn’t return home.”_

_“Why, Black? Why are you still alive, and we’re not?”_ another young man, not older than 20 years, approached the trembling, retreating astronaut. His neck had clearly been snapped like a twig, leaving his cranium hanging loosely and awkwardly on a side. _“You could’ve helped us, but you didn’t. It’s your fault… it’s your fault we died!”_

“Stop it— just stop it, shut up! I didn’t want this to happen to any of you! I tried to save you, I swear, I did! I’m sorry, I’m _so_ sorry,” no matter how tightly Black clamped his palms on his ringing ears, the haunting cries only grew in volume, echoing in his brain as he slowly sank to the ground and buried his head between his knees. _Wake up, wake up, wake up!_ “It’s not my fault, I tried to save you— I did my best, it’s not my fault, I figured it out too late…”

_“Why did you vote me out, Black? I thought we were friends,”_ a cerulean-clothed astronaut kneeled in front of Black, forcing him to look up at her cyanotic face and lips, which perfectly matched the color of her spacesuit and cadaveric irises. _“I told you I was innocent, that it wasn’t me. There was no oxygen out there, and it was so cold… how could you do it? I was innocent, but you voted me off. I was your friend! We were friends, and you abandoned me to die!”_

Any useless explanation, justification or plea died in the back of Black’s throat and tears of pure terror, sorrow, regret and guilt started to stream down his cheeks as another familiar, imposing shape locked eyes with him. “Tan, I’m—”

_“It should’ve been you, Black. Not me,”_ Tan said impassively, ripping off the upper part of his bloodstained spacesuit to reveal a huge hole in his chest, still oozing blood and serum, a minced emptiness where his beating heart should’ve been. _“You know it should’ve been you.”_

The black-haired man forced himself to snap out of it, fighting and battling against the growing dread with tooth and nail. “Leave me alone, please— leave me alone! Get out of my head! Stay away, don’t come any closer,” he shrieked in terror, crawling on the ground and kicking and punching the air in every direction, desperate to distance himself from those approaching corpses. “I tried, guys! I’m sorry I survived! I’m sorry I couldn’t figure it out sooner, before the Impostor… b-before the Impostor…”

_“Black, why?”_

_“You could’ve prevented this.”_

_“Why didn’t you save us?”_

_“We were friends, weren’t we? Weren’t we!?”_

_“Black,”_ the cold hand of a silver-haired girl, who was laboriously dragging her slashed-in-half body on the floor, gripped one of Black’s sleeves and pulled harshly, holding on tight. Her frayed insides had decorated the ground like the paintbrush of an artist. _“why did you let us die?”_

**Author's Note:**

> (this started as a filthy one-shot, I didn't mean to sprinkle it with angst, but my hand dropped oops)
> 
> black has seen some messed up stuff, and I can't wait to write more about his trauma-- In the meantime, I really hope you enjoyed this little filthy thing I wrote eheh
> 
> as usual, your kudos and your comments fuel my soul and my will to write, so if you enjoyed it, pls lemme know! it would make my day c:


End file.
